


prince charming

by lithalos



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), M/M, Trans Male Characters, wtf else do i tag this this is uncharted territory, yep plural let's go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 13:36:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14853779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lithalos/pseuds/lithalos
Summary: Expectations are a funny thing.





	prince charming

**Author's Note:**

> i'm just here to enable maru

Expectations are a funny thing; no matter how Akechi _truly_ feels, the weight of someone else’s expectations tends to draw his actions, to shape how he reacts, responds, _is_. It’s a vice, he’ll admit, letting himself be swayed so easily by other people’s false perceptions. But then again—it is how he’s been so successful, being the darling detective. By being so adaptive, so willing to pivot on the fly to fit the wills of presumptuous people, he’s found a place he feels wanted.

The only person to have ever challenged that, to slowly unroot the carefully sewn personality he’d built for himself, was ironically the one Akechi wished to please most.

It started as something trite, honestly. A tiny ember of curiosity towards an otherwise unassuming student had Akechi approaching him, talking with him. Or, rather—continuing an _argument_. An intellectual one, of course. Dissecting the moral complexities of vigilantes and their use in society with someone who seemingly had an endless predilection to disagree was _interesting_ , to say the least.

An adjective that suits Amamiya, honestly. Despite being plain and soft spoken, there is a definite _draw_ to him that Akechi can’t quite explain. It has him returning again and again, approaching him when Akechi would otherwise have remained alone.

Perhaps it’s his wit—it had taken Akechi a few conversations to discover Amamiya’s sharp tongue, skillfully wringing jokes and puns out of otherwise serious discussions. Amamiya keeps Akechi on his toes, if for nothing else than to avoid being flustered by yet another perfectly-timed one-liner.

Or, if Akechi wishes to be _honest_ with himself… Amamiya is… well, he’s _interesting_. Akechi has missed many a conversation simply staring; staring at Amamiya’s messy hair he simply wants to tame, staring at oddly clear and bright grey eyes that tend to get lost behind his thick frames, at long lashes that flutter against his cheeks—

Amamiya definitely catches him, frequently too. And for a while, nothing comes of it. Nothing is said and they simply just move on. It’s a calm night in Leblanc when that routine breaks; Akechi’s distracted, watching Amamiya’s peacefully focused face as he brews coffee with ease, catching the slightest hint of pride on his face as he finishes—

“Detective?”

Oh, he’s missed something, hasn't he? “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

There’s a small pause, a brief space between words where Amamiya simply watches him. Even behind a thick layer of glass, Akechi can see a thought kicking around in his eyes. “I said, if you're done staring at me, your coffee’s ready."

Akechi blinks, away from Amamiya’s blank, yet somehow still slightly smug face, and right down to the cup full of coffee sitting before him. “I wasn't staring,” he says, knowing the lie is unconvincing at best but his pride _refuses_ to let him cop up to it.

“Uh huh,” Amamiya replies in that same slightly self-satisfied tone. “Getting lost in my eyes, detective?”

Akechi lifts his gaze to glare at Amamiya, feeling the heat of a blush creep down his collar. “Hardly.”

Amamiya laughs, quiet and amused and strangely _cute_ — “And here I was, thinking I’d finally wooed you.”

“ _Wooed_ me?” Akechi hates how flustered he feels; obviously Amamiya’s joking, as he does. Surely he’s joking now.

Amamiya scrunches his nose a bit, lifting a hand to fiddle absently at his hair. “Yes? Have you not noticed me _flirting_ with you?”

“Can’t say I have, no.”

Amamiya huffs. “Are you sure you're a detective?” He shakes his head before watching Akechi with an unreadable expression. Something almost akin to being wary, honestly; it's carefully guarded in a way Akechi isn’t sure he’s seen before. “Anyways… I gotta close up soon, it’s getting late.”

So it is—Akechi is always surprised at how quickly the time wiles away when he’s at Leblanc. He likens it to the relaxing, homey atmosphere, but if he were to speak from the heart… it likely has more to do with the barista.

“Ah, I’ll take my leave then.” He replies with more cheer than he feels, standing and smoothing his hands against the small wrinkles in his peacoat. Perhaps that’s for the best—they’re beginning to cross into dangerous, uncertain territories that are best left untraversed.

“You don’t, uh,” Amamiya starts as he emerges from behind the counter. He isn't making eye-contact anymore, instead opting to fix his eyes on the ceiling. If Akechi looks hard enough, he can almost see the same thought flicker across Amamiya’s face—the thought that the line they're about to cross leads to nothing good. “Have to. You can stay, if you’d like.”

“Of course.” It’s out of his mouth well before he can think about it, well before his brain catches back up to the situation. He’ll regret this, he knows he will, but… the shy smile Amamiya gives him almost makes it all worthwhile.

And it's a quiet affair, watching Amamiya close up the shop, following him up the stairs to the attic.

It’s not the first time Akechi’s been up here, not by a long shot but it—it looks more daunting, somehow, with a new context. He feels the stirrings of unease pool in his chest; what would everyone think if they saw their darling detective boy throwing himself at some attic barista? A _criminal_ no less, not that he’s heard it from Amamiya himself.

And for the first time in Amamiya’s presence, he feels it: the ever present weight of expectation placed upon him with the spotlight. No doubt even Amamiya expects him to be the charming paper doll he is on television, to be this perfect, innocent facsimile of himself.

The coy smile he catches on Amamiya’s face, framed by moonlight and implications, almost pulls Akechi out of his thoughts.

Almost.

The kiss has marginally more success; it’s chaste and soft with Amamiya slowly winding his arms around Akechi’s waist and pulling him flush. And Akechi follows suit, letting his hands rise up to brush through Amamiya’s curly mess of hair, wishing he could tug him closer. Wishing he could pull until he hears Amamiya gasp, or hear small whimpers of pleasure from his throat.

But he can't. The darling detective has an image to maintain—even around Amamiya.

Amamiya hums anyways without the provocation, gently pulling at Akechi's waist, pulling him back until Amamiya’s knees hit the edge of the bed. His lips more insistent now as they move with Akechi’s own, hands sliding to grip at Akechi’s hips almost posessively.

Amamiya pulls away briefly, if only to drag the both of them down to the bed, guiding Akechi to rest in his lap. And then lips are on his again, fierce and gentle in the same breath; Akechi’s breath catches when he feels Amamiya’s tongue run along his bottom lip.

Akechi hesitates, just for a moment. Amamiya’s hands smoothing at his sides feels nice—great, actually. The way Amamiya shifts to pull him closer feels _nice_. and Akechi wants this, he desperately, _desperately_ does. He’s definitely thought about this before, behind closed doors with shame creeping down his spine and wet hands.

He _wants_ this, but…

Amamiya pulls away without warning; Akechi bites back the unbecoming whine and steels his face into anything _but_ the pout he feels like putting on.

“Are you okay?” Amamiya asks, and it’s now that Akechi realises Amamiya has stopped touching him entirely. “Are you uncomfortable?”

Of course Amamiya would notice, he's entirely too keen not to, and entirely too considerate to ignore it. It seems to be something Amamiya is particularly attuned to—he can sense Akechi’s hesitance and, as if he’s some fragile porcelain doll, Amamiya pulls away at the slightest sign of cracking.

It’s what Amamiya expects of the darling detective, clearly. To be fragile and innocent and _pure_.

Akechi takes too long to answer, clearly, because Amamiya pulls away entirely, extricating himself from underneath him. He has a small, sincere smile laced with uncertainty as he brushes a bit of Akechi’s hair out of his face. “If you want us to stop, we can stop.”

 _No_ , Akechi wants to say—but it’s not what’s expected of him.

“Of course. Thank you,” he says instead and tries not to taste the disappointment in his tone.

 

* * *

 

They’d been drinking a little bit—or a _lot_ , Goro isn’t sure—talking and laughing well into the night. It’s nice, he thinks. being with Ren, no ulterior motives, no existential pressures from the powers at be, just… them. Just the two of them.

It’s been a while, a few years since Goro shot him in cold blood and discovered Ren had somehow cheated death. A few years since Goro himself cheated death by the skin of his teeth and months of hospitalization. A few years since he’d dropped off the grid, without a word and without a trace.

Ren had been surprised to see he’s still alive and kicking—actually, it’s the most emotion Goro thinks he’s ever seen on his face, tears and slack jawed and _raw_ in a way Ren had never been.

But people change; Goro himself is evidence of that.

They had decided to return to Leblanc together, after a little bit of hesitance and a lot of awkwardness. Their small talk had been clumsy and stilted, clinical in questions and responses right up until the door of the cafe chimed and the pretenses were dropped.

The alcohol was Ren’s idea, a celebration of a reunion and a peace offering, all in one.

It was a good idea, Goro thinks. The alcohol shows him a new side of Ren, one he had only seen years prior while straddling his lap. His face is flushed and he’s got a real sappy grin on his face as he regails a lighthearted story of times Goro missed.

He’s cute like this, Goro thinks. And close; they’d opted to sit together on the mattress propped up on crates Ren dares call a bed, sharing a bottle of wine and inching closer as the contents dwindled. Ren’s pressed against his side, warm and familiar and _comfortable_ in a way Goro isn't sure he deserves.

“May I say something, Ren?” Goro asks, feeling emboldened by the liquid courage in his veins.

Ren blinks owlishly at him, wine slick lips parting in an odd surprise; Goro’s eyes can’t help but fix on them and wonder if the wine will somehow taste sweeter there. “Be my guest,” he says, gesturing vaguely.

Goro fiddles with the pocket of Ren’s jeans and presses a tiny bit closer. “Forgive if I’m being forward, but I would like to kiss you.”

Ren licks his lips—Goro’s eyes trace the motion. “I’d, uh,” Ren starts, looking fidgety and awkward and _cute_ , “like that too.”

That’s all Goro needs to press forward, to close the distance and capture Ren’s lips with his own. It’s chaste and sloppy, but Goro wants _more_ ; he sweeps his tongue on Ren’s lips and tastes the wine there, shifting to straddle Ren once more.

It’s familiar, yet different. As Goro slips his tongue into Ren’s mouth, as he presses a knee between Ren’s legs and relishes in the strangled groan from his throat, Goro feels weightless. The years free from the spotlight, from expectations, has liberated him to take what he wants and right now, what he _wants_ is Ren whimpering beneath him.

Ren shudders, full-bodied with a keening whine when Goro rocks his knee against him. He slips hands under Ren’s shirt to explore skin, to explore the muscles he’s surprised Ren still has without moonlighting as a thief. He breaks away from the kiss, contented with Ren’s bruising lips and half-lidded eyes but aching for _more_.

Goro slides a hand under Ren’s jeans to soaked boxers and runs his fingers along sensitive skin. And ren honest to god _whimpers_ , shivering as Goro’s fingers toy with his cock through drenched fabric; he’s panting and flushed as he rolls his hips trying to chase Goro’s fingers.

And really, it only takes a moment of that before Ren chokes back a broken sob and Goro feels a mess of fluid seep onto his hand.

And he’s surprised; he tugs Ren’s jeans down his legs in disbelief, staring at the mess between his legs and darkening the fabric of his boxers. It’s undeniably attractive, and Akechi feels his own arousal pooling in his stomach. Without thinking, Goro’s hand creeps into his own boxers, spreading the wetness across his fingers as he rubs at his own dick. Seeing Ren heaving, red faced and sated, with the mess _Goro_ had caused—Goro shudders, slipping fingers inside himself with a groan.

He’d thought about this before, fantasised his missed opportunities on lonely nights in an even lonelier bed, but now it’s real and happening. Ren is really here, breathing and alive, (and frankly, covered in his own come,) and Goro can’t help the small whine he lets out at that thought. There’s fingers carding through his hair, gentle and _real_ ; Ren’s brushing at his face with the pad of his thumb and really, that’s all Goro needs to go tumbling right over the edge.

He takes a moment (or several, as the case may be) to even out his breathing before pulling his soiled, wet hand out of his pants. For a moment he stares at his own mess, trying to figure out how best to actually go about cleaning up before ultimately shrugging and wiping his fingers on Ren’s already dirtied thighs. Ren was going to have to clean himself up anyways.

Reluctantly, Goro pulls back. “Really, though?” He asks. “I barely touched you.”

It takes a moment before Ren can reply; sleepiness had started to seep into his expression. “I-it's… been a while.” He mumbles out, shifting to cover his embarrassed flush with his arm. “Was a lot.”

Goro isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol that encourages him to press further, but: “How long is _a while_?”

“Um.” Ren coughs a little bit—Goro feels his face heat up as he gets the sense he knows where this is going. “Since, uh, the last time you were up here.”

 _Jesus_. “You really haven’t…” With a vague handwave that Ren can’t see burying his face in his hands, Goro trails off. “Since we last. Up here. It's been _years_. _Really_?”

Ren peeks out from between his fingers. “Look I—I mean obviously, I’ve jacked it but—no. I didn’t really… want to, I guess?” He sounds unsure. “Anyways, I—I’m feeling really sticky. Can we just—drop this for now and clean up?”

Goro hums. “I suppose we’ve got all the time we want now, don’t we?”

“Before this shit dries? No,” Ren grumbles out, sitting up slowly and making a face. “Did you really have to. Y’know.”

“You’re already a mess anyways. Figured it wouldn’t be that much more of a bother.”

There’s a noise from Ren as he stands, a cross between an affirmation and a whine. “Oh man. I need a towel.” He sounds almost mortified; Goro looks between his legs as Ren kicks off his jeans to see liquid dripping down them.

“Do you _have_ a towel?”

Ren stares at his wet legs for a moment before whipping off his shirt and wiping them off with that. “No,” he admits.

“Wonderful.”

“I live in a _cafe_ , Goro—I don’t have a _shower,_ either.”

Well that makes things a bit more complicated. “Trip to the bathhouse, then?”

“That sounds like a good idea, yeah.”

Without thinking, a common theme of the night at this point, Goro grabs at Ren’s wrist and pulls him close. Close enough to feel warm breath on his cheeks, close enough to close the distance entirely and press his lips to Ren’s once more. There’s no rush, no haste in it, just a slow and languid kiss that proves they’ve got all the time in the world.

Okay, perhaps there’s a _little_ haste; Ren pulls away and tugs him to the stairs. “As much as I’d love to make out with you right now, seriously. I feel a little gross right now.”

Goro laughs. “All right, all right. Put on some pants and we can go. And Ren?”

Ren stops to look at him with a tilt of his head. “Yeah?”

For a moment, Goro ponders saying something more—mentioning the fluttering in his chest, perhaps, or the overwhelming surge of relief he feels just knowing Ren is _alive_. But instead: “Never mind. It can wait for another time.”

“We’ve got nothing but time, Goro.”

Goro smiles, sombre and relieved. “Of course. Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> what happened here? nobody knows.


End file.
